Don't Let Nobody Tell Ya Different
by Mysterious Bloody Lune
Summary: Her grandfather always said "You can do anything you want to, and don't let nobody tell ya different." Now all that's left of him is a grave, a golden chain, photos, and memories.


"C'mon, girl!" Sage Goldmill laughed, running down the steps of the museum. Sage wasn't simply running, she was training. Her dog, Liz, a huge golden retriever, was running alongside her. Liz was also counted on to be Sage's protection, especially when they were running. In a city of gangs, drugs, booze, boxers and druggies, Sage needed protection.

Sure, they were generating stares: Who wouldn't stare at a sweaty girl with stringy hair in a baggy gray t-shirt, sports bra and runner's shorts holding a huge golden retriever by a chain? Who wouldn't stare at her, especially because it was four o'clock in the afternoon, most girls her age were doing homework or hanging out at the park?

Where there's smoke, there's fire, as the old saying goes. Even in the poorest of communities, people usually set fire to their belongings, to get the insurance money. Or to get rid of people.  "Oh no." Sage mumbled, seeing smoke coming form the general direction of her neighborhood. "Please don't be home, please don't be home."

The rest of the way wasn't that far. Sage was in the market by now, right by home and, though she didn't know it yet, the Balboa's house. She did know Robert Balboa from school, they were in the same class, but they were strangers to her. Mrs. Goldmill, her grandmother, used to talk about Mickey, Sage's grandfather, and how he trained 'The Italian Stallion.'

Whatever that meant.

Well... Sage had met then, however briefly, at Mickey's funeral. Paulie, who Sage secretly called a mafioso, Adrian, who had sold her ten goldfish (nine of whom died within the first week) and Liz, and Rocky, who had actually been crying a bit. Robert had also been there, and had pretty much ignored Sage and Sage pretty much ignored Robert.

"Miz, please stay away from th' fire." A fireman directed.

"You don't understand! This is my house, I live here with Jessica Goldmill, my grandmother!" Sage was in hysterics.

"Then where were ya?" The fireman replied.

"Runnin'. Got a problem with that? Did Grandmother survive?"  "Miz... You're t' live with th' Balboas now. Yer Granny said so, she died."

"Fine." Sage turned away from the fireman and saw the stretcher covered with a white sheet. A crowed of people, including Adrian and Robert Balboa, were crowded around the scene, watching the firemen put out the flames.   

Mrs. Goldmill had been well respected: She was the type of grandmother who made vast amounts of small cookies and gave them to children she saw or when she and the child's parents spoke. Which was why the small house had an almost constant slew of visitors. When a mother dropped off money for some organization, her children came with, and Mrs. Goldmill gave them a cookie each 'for the walk home'.

"What'cha all lookin' at? Don't cha all have somthin' else to do?" Sage hollered at the crowd, then bit her lip automatically. Sage did have a slight... temper. She hated being center of attention, and broke Tia Brown's nose in the second grade because Tia said something about Sage's grandfather and what he used to do.

It was at this time Adrian and Robert decided to walk over to Sage, Robert trailing more than a little bit behind. What self-respecting thirteen-year-old boy would want to be seen standing next to his mother? Chickie would never give him the end of it.

"Oh, hey, Mrs. Balboa. Robert." Sage nodded, turning a shade of pink that was often associated with mild sunburn. She was embarrassed by the show she'd put on by yelling at everyone. Chickie would never give her the end of that one, either.   Sage had always liked 'Mrs. Balboa', as she called Adrian. Adrian had suggested, after Sage coming in once a week for nine weeks choosing a new fish, that she got a dog. Dogs were better at sticking up for themselves and were very loyal. There was a two-year-old already trained dog named Liz at the pet store that day... Sage walked out with a fish, a dog, and a chain leash and collar. That particular fish lived for two weeks.

As for Robert, he just thought of Sage as a person. On the rare occasion they were grouped together at school, whether at a table or for some lesson, he didn't pull faces or say loud 'ewws'. Nah, they just got along quietly together, only talking when necessary and that kind of thing.

"Sorry for your grandmother." Robert said uncertainly, like he didn't know what to say.

"It's alright... she was old anyway." Sage replied, a little sadly. Her parents died, ten of ten goldfish died, her grandpa (Who had always told her that she could do anything she wanted, and "don't let nobody tell you different") and now her grandmother. One thought came to mind: How in the living daylights was she supposed to pay for the funeral? The Goldmills weren't exactly what you'd call rich anymore, and Sage's job at Mr. Creed's Market got her twenty dollars a day. Ten of which went to food, and ten Sage kept herself.

"Miz, are you Miz Balboa?" The fireman came up to the trio, boots clomping on the muddy grass.

"Yes I am." Adrian replied.

"Are you goin' t' be takin' care of Miz Goldmill here?"  "Yes." Adrian answered.

The news made both Sage and Robert think of the outcomes: Once Tia Brown, Chickie, and most kids at school heard about this, they'd both be the laughingstock of the school. Teachers would expect both of their homework to be doubly as good, because they were living together. Teachers would also group them together automatically. Adrian may get early gray hairs, but that was besides the point.

"Miz Goldmill, t' fire's out. D'yoo wanna see if anythin' was not burn'd t' a crizp?" The fireman asked.

"Sure." Sage shrugged, immediately pulling Liz along to the charred house. "If you want to come in, Mrs. Balboa and Robert, you're welcome to." Sage added, remembering her manners. After all, they were practically family to her now, something that Robert would remember and forget in years to come.

"Robert, go." Adrian motioned towards the house. Robert obliged, and found Sage crying a bit at a photo that survived the hungry blaze. The photo was of Mickey, standing next to Jessica on their wedding day, looking as happy as possible. They were surrounded by many friends and little family, including Rocky, Adrian, and Paulie.

Sage must have noticed Robert standing awkwardly a few feet behind her, because she brushed the tears away angrily. No one could see Sage cry. She was invincible, laughed at everything bad that came her way... Or so it had always appeared. No one saw her cry as she put her nose back into place after it had been broken, no one saw her cry at Mickey's funeral. No one saw her cry about the goldfish, but she did. No one saw her cry when she broke her ankle on the playground in fourth grade. But no one saw her pillow after she'd cried about all those things.

"Both of them had their time." She stated again, putting the photo in her pocket. Robert was kind of amazed and shocked. Here was the seemingly invincible, tough, Sage Goldmill crying and saying something kind!   

"Your grandparents?"  

"Yes. Mickey and Jessica." Sage replied.

"Didn't Mickey train-"  

"He trained your dad, I know." Sage interrupted. "You were at the funeral, doofus." She continued to what used to be called the kitchen, walking around the charred wall, even though she could just walk right through it.  Now Robert remembered. His dad had been almost crying- something Robert had yet to see again- and so had his mother.

"Don't get offensive." Robert retorted, watching Sage find two large mixing bowls that had survived and putting them in a bag.

"What're the bowls for?" 

 "Liz." Sage said simply, as thought it explained everything. "Food, water for the hound?"  

"Oh."

Finding nothing else in the kitchen except the fire-proof safe that held the money, which she took out and put in the bag, Sage went upstairs.  "Don't be a chicken." She said, and Robert took that as an invitation to come upstairs.

There were five rooms upstairs: Mickey and Jessica's room and bathroom, Sage's room, a spare room, and a bathroom. There was also a hall closet.

Sage went to her room first.

Most of the furniture was destroyed, to ashes and soggy black... wood? It was unrecognizable. Not everything was destroyed, however. A blue bunny that always sat on at the head of the bed was intact, no fire marks, no nothing. Sage quickly but that bunny in her pocket, not the bag. Robert saw but pretended he didn't.

A photo of Sage's parents was also intact. Sage glared at it for a long moment, then sighed.

Mr. and Mrs. Goldmill were the ones responsible for the money problem. Mickey had a small fortune, but Mr. Goldmill smoked it all away. Mrs. Goldmill never really cared for Sage, and both Mr. and Mrs. Goldmill died when Sage was two. A funeral that only Mickey, Jessica, Sage, Robert, Rocky, and Adrian attended. No one else.

The photo went in the bag, after getting slightly crumpled up.

"At least now I have an excuse for not doin' that Christmas Break report Mrs. Silver wanted us to do." Sage commented.

"Nah. She'll just ask that you write about how your house caught fire and your grandma died." Robert shook his head.

"That woman has no emotion in her whatsoever." Sage shook her head. "I feel sorry for her."  Robert and Sage glanced at each other and began laughing.

As it turned out, the only other thing that survived was a golden chain Mickey used to wear. Sage immediately clipped it around her neck, remembering Mickey.

"You gonna wear that?" Robert asked, a little amused.

"Yeah. So?" Sage replied. "He told me that I could have it when I was older." She admitted, letting her guard down as she had so many times already today.

"Cool." Robert shrugged.

There was something that caught Sage's eye: A pair of boxing gloves, hanging in the closet. She went to go get them.

"Gloves?" Robert asked, lifting an eyebrow. Sage grinned.

"You never know."

These gloves were Mickey's old gloves. Well-worn, broken in... Perfect, in other words. Sage decided to take them so she could train and just because they were Mickey's. But Robert couldn't know that she went to the abandoned gym every day. That may just be pure embarrassment, to Sage at least.

_Later, watching television in the Balboa's basement._

"Paulie, this is Sage. You've met her before." Adrian said, shaking her head in disgust at her brother staring at the television.

"Wha-? Oh. 'Ello." Paulie replied, looking at Adrian and Sage, then back at the television, which was showing an old fight between Rocky and someone else.

"Paulie, turn that stupid shit off." Rocky mumbled, from behind Adrian and Sage, making Sage jump a bit.

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**Yeeeee! A Rocky fanfiction! I'm not sure if I got the dates/timing right... so bear with me, correct me, etc etc. What can I do better, what was the strong points in the story? Did it build up enough character for Sage? I had lots of fun with the fireman's accent.... lol.**

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